Thy epilogue; see, see to what design’d!
So soon as thou wert born, so soon as air
Affords thee breath, thy vitals to repair,
So soon as thy small feeble embrion breast
Is of an active power, unknown, possess’d;
So soon thou may’st expect the dreadful day,
When thou once more must be reduc’d to clay,
And the whole fabrick of thy body must
Again be brought to its first nothing, dust:
Then shall those eyes, those crystal eyes of thine,